A Familiar Face
by T-c3
Summary: Established relationship. After an uneventful night, Rorschach comes back to the Nest and finds a gift waiting for him.


Note: For the sake of the story, let's pretend that no criminals go out on Christmas Eve when it's ridiculously cold.

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

* * *

It's that kind of winter night where tranquility prevails. The freshly fallen snow glistens in the streetlights, not yet broken by the many snow boots and inappropriate high heels. The wind is light, almost nonexistent. No one is out in the unforgiving cold, cold enough to bite through layers and layers. Between the holiday and the temperature, the doors are locked tight. Only one soul does not care enough about either to use them as an excuse to stay inside.

*~*~*~*~*

Rorschach stands there, glaring, waiting for an answer. He shouldn't even have to ask in the first place.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Daniel shuts off the television and looks at him like a confused child. "It's Christmas Eve. Probably only a few criminals will be out tonight."

"And that should be an adequate reason," he nearly growls.

Daniel sighs, and Rorschach knows what's coming. Instead of letting Daniel reject him, he pulls the mask over his head in one quick motion, shoves the fedora on, and walks out of the room. He can hear Daniel begin to say something with indignation, but he ignores him, takes two steps at a time down into the Nest. He'll be the city's lone guardian tonight, out in the elements that most people avoid at all costs.

"Rorschach, wait!" Daniel is practically leaping after him, and the sight almost makes Rorschach think he's changed his mind. But instead of picking his costume out of the locker, he takes a thick, white coat and hands it to him. "It's freezing out there. I don't want you getting hypothermia."

Rorschach regards the coat with distaste. "Don't need it."

Looking genuinely annoyed, Daniel shoves the coat at him. "Wear it under your trench or something."

"Will be _fine_, Daniel," Rorschach grinds out. He doesn't have the patience for this.

Daniel stares at him for a moment before giving up, dropping the coat on a nearby chair. "When you start talking like you have an allergy to complete sentences, I know I can't win. Just be careful, alright?" There's concern leaking through the irritation.

Rorschach wants to say that if he's so worried, he should come with him, should do his job instead of use juvenile excuses. But he just nods his head and walks towards the tunnel, already beginning to feel the chilly air and maybe regretting not taking that coat.

Out on the streets coated with white, there is only the sound of his own footsteps crunching through the snow. Rorschach grumbles to himself about the weaknesses of criminals, that they can't even show proper dedication to their immoral ways. Rorschach has seen low activity before, but it never fails to irk him. Evil never sleeps, never shies away from the cold, never takes a holiday. While he knows that the freezing temperature has discouraged some from a night of crime, he also knows that it's only moved the crime to indoors. There is nothing he can do if he can't see or hear the acts of cruelty and violence.

Rorschach hates that Daniel was right Not one to give up, he hunts for crime until two in the morning, when his joints start to freeze up and his face is so numb that he can't even manage to frown at the thought of Daniel gloating. But he knows better. Walking back down the tunnel, he knows that Daniel will just offer him something warm to drink and suggest they go to bed.

He stops when he sees Daniel at the workbench, hunched over with his head in his arms. Rorschach almost feels guilty for being angry with him. The man had stayed in the drafty basement to wait for him, make sure he returned safely. He walks over with the intention of waking him up when he sees something interesting on the table. Curious, he picks up the object from among the tiny, metal parts and takes his mask off to examine it in the dim light. At first, it seems like an ordinary pocket watch, but the face has a black and white pattern that looks very similar to that of his mask.

Daniel stirs, but Rorschach is too busy staring at the watch to acknowledge him.

"Oh, hell. I meant to wrap that up first," he mumbles sleepily. After a quick yawn, he holds his hand out. "Let me show you."

Rorschach silently gives it to him and continues to stare at the watch face. He's amazed when the symmetrical, black pattern begins to shift, just like his own mask does, as Daniel winds the crown.

"I'm actually not sure what the correct time is right now, so you'll have to set it later," Daniel says, grinning widely, as he hands his work back to Rorschach.

"You made this." He's too stunned to do more than state the obvious.

Daniel gives an embarrassed laugh, averting his eyes to the floor. "Yeah. I know you already have a watch, but I just thought . . . I had no clue what to get you, so I figured I'd make something. Then I had no clue what to make, but I figured you'd like something that sort of represents you. I don't know. I'm pretty bad at stuff like this."

Rorschach tilts his head. "You're babbling."

His cheeks turn a bright shade of pink as he just laughs again.

Looking back at the delicate object in his hand, Walter—because Rorschach is gone now—can feel one corner of his mouth twitch upwards in an almost smile. No one has ever made things for him before he met Daniel. No one has ever gotten him anything at all. He still doesn't understand why Daniel likes him so much, why he would spend what must have been days, maybe even weeks, on creating something just for him. It makes the cold in his bones seep out of his body.

"Thank you." And it doesn't feel like enough.

"You're welcome." And Daniel just smiles up at him.

Walter has never celebrated the holiday, not even at the home, where he'd merely sat there and watched the other children run around with their "new" toys. He has vague memories of his mother being less abusive to him on Christmas, but it isn't enough to give him tender feelings towards it. He does know what is expected in the act of gift giving, and he quickly realizes that he has nothing for Daniel in return.

"I—"

But he's cut off by a wave of Daniel's hand. He gets to his feet, stretching, and Walter can hear the cracks in his spine, then turns to him and says, "You don't have to give me anything. I know you're not the sentimental type, and I probably shouldn't have even given you that." He gestures to the watch that Walter is now cradling against his stomach. "I just can't help but get into the holiday spirit."

Walter doesn't know what to say to that. He has a peculiar urge to do something for Daniel, but he's exhausted and still not quite warm. He's not in the mood to do what might be expected of him, even though he's sure Daniel isn't thinking of that. But he has to, wants to, do _something_.

Putting his fedora and mask on the table, the watch gently on top, Walter settles his hands on Daniel's shoulders. Before the man has the chance to utter a sound, he leans in and presses their lips together. Just that. As innocent as a kiss between two men can be. He holds them there long enough to hear a contented hum from Daniel, then he separates them, keeping his hands planted where they are. Daniel slowly opens his eyes and places one hand on top of Walter's, warming his fingers through the gloves.

"Come on," Daniel murmurs. "You must be tired."

Walter follows him up the stairs, but not before scooping up his mask and watch, carefully placing them inside the fedora.

Once they settle in bed, Daniel wrapped around him to banish the remaining cold, Walter closes his eyes and listens to the soft ticking of his pocket watch. He thinks Daniel must hear it also, for he smiles against his neck and whispers, "Merry Christmas, Walter." And Walter just makes a low noise in his throat by way of response, already feeling the pull of sleep.


End file.
